Who out there would climb a mountain

to drink in life?

who signs his name upon the line

establishing his dominance?

I have buried more in these lands

held hands with death and smiled,

have walked a lonely pilgrimage,

to what ends,

I ask of myself.

But if climbing, falling or

dying is our calling then

we must adhere

to the plan,

but a man has

to wonder

about the wonder all around him,

times being grim and no fairy tale

no breadcrumbs to mark the trail

we take,

we make our tracks.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.